


Drunken Laments of Mr. Prongs

by zoiekittycat



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-02
Updated: 2013-01-02
Packaged: 2017-11-23 10:12:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/620988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoiekittycat/pseuds/zoiekittycat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She came into my life as swiftly and utterly destructive as a hurricane; leaving nothing but disaster in her wake.  Well, for me, at least. I can’t pinpoint the exact moment in time when I first met her; this isn’t one of those ‘Love at First Sight’ stories. It’s the opposite.  I abhorred her, and likewise, she hated me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drunken Laments of Mr. Prongs

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fan fiction I've ever written. I hope you enjoy it!

“She came into my life as swiftly and utterly destructive as a hurricane; leaving nothing but disaster in her wake. Well, for me, at least. I can’t pinpoint the exact moment in time when I first met her; this isn’t one of those ‘Love at First Sight’ stories. It’s the opposite. I abhorred her, and likewise, she hated me.  
“We put all of our efforts into making each other’s lives a living Hell. I never thought she was a mastermind until one of my Marauder’s pranks went a little too far, and being the stuck-up, goody two-shoes she is, she had to put me in my place. After that though, it never worked. She tried, and I sincerely believe it was the hardest thing for her. We were always one step ahead of her. She never did figure out how.  
“By second year, yelling matches were a common occurrence when we met in the halls. Crowds gathered just to watch the spectacle. The upper years thought it was entertaining to watch some twelve year olds ‘have at it.’ Sometimes, bets were placed on who would start or win the next bout.  
“It all changed when my hormones kicked in. There was something about the way her green eyes glinted when she glared in my direction, or how her pale face flushed when she sent a jinx my way, or maybe it was because of her hair; her fiery, golden hair. Maybe, just maybe, it was the tune she hummed under her breath when she thought no one could hear her. Something about yesterday and how her troubles weren’t so far away, some shit like that; probably some muggle song.  
“She was always so damn bloody perfect, too! Always had to have top marks, always had to be the best, always dressed to the nines. The only subject she refused to better herself in was flying. "Too afraid of heights, fear of falling, no control,” were some of the excuses I heard her spout to her friends many times. I think that’s why I took up Quidditch. Just so I could be better at something than her.  
“When I finally thought I was rid of her, she would drift back into my thoughts. She even captured my dreams. Fifth year was the worst. I realized I couldn’t have enough of her. She was a drug and I was her addict. What I really needed was rehab. Padfoot and Wormy thought pranking would cure me, but Moony knew better.  
“We were out by the Lake when we saw Snivellus, and we decided to play a prank on him. Everyone was out by the lake, and when Padfoot pulled Snape’s pants down for the world to see, she came to his rescue. She had an odd relationship with him. Everyone knew he loved her, except her, of course. Apparently, they were childhood friends. Wouldn’t have known that by how he treated her. That day by the lake, he looked at her with the utmost contempt and slurred the word, ‘Mudblood,’ her way. Somehow, Moony knew that something like that would happen. It always does when we go on prank sprees. If they aren’t thought out, they aren’t executed well.  
“That marked the last time I pulled a serious prank on Snivelly. Yeah, there was the occasional fight in the hall (Not as bad as her's and mine), and hexes usually flew, but nothing more than that. But he couldn’t stop there. I was fine to admit defeat, but he had a grudge, which is understandable; I did torture him up to that point. On one of the full moons, he discovered Moony’s ‘Furry Little Problem’ the hard way. He should’ve been grateful that I saved his arse.  
“After that, I sobered up; I matured. She didn’t notice, though. Thought I was still the ‘arrogant toe rag’ that I was in first year. Then, in the middle of sixth year, my father died. A war raged inside of me, one of depression and anger. They battled to see who would come out on top.  
“At one point that year, I was sitting in my favorite nook in the library (Far east in the window-seat), when she approached me. I didn’t even hear her feather-light footsteps or her clearing her throat. I do remember the feel of her hand on my shoulder when she realized I was lost in the turmoil of my thoughts. It was soft, light, but reassuring. She was never like that before. Turning, her face shocked me. It wasn’t one of anger, disgust, or superiority; it was one of sorrow, kindness, and trust. Something had changed in her, and I couldn’t stop the one tear from escaping. She took a seat next to me and we watched the sun set over the lake without saying a word.  
“That next summer changed me. Without my father, I had more responsibility and I matured. Padfoot thought it was for the worse, but it wasn’t. I was still the same boy that flushed Snivelly’s diary down Moaning Myrtle’s toilet in fourth year. The only difference was that I had grown up. We all have to sometime. Padfoot just didn’t think he would ever have to.  
“When our Hogwarts letters arrived and a small pin fell out of mine, Padfoot went bloody nuts. The day before we left for the train, he simmered down, realized I could be an ally as Head Boy. He wouldn’t ever get in trouble from me, I’d have more clearance to do things, and he could wreak havoc wherever he went, as long as a teacher or the Head Girl didn’t see.  
“It came as no surprise to me when she walked into the Prefects compartment on the Hogwarts Express exclaiming that I couldn’t be Head Boy, I wasn’t even a Prefect. Of course, the thought of sharing the Head’s Dormitories with me was ridiculous. Too bad she had to come to terms with it.  
“About a month into seventh year, she realized I had changed completely. Like Padfoot, she realized I wasn’t the same, but unlike him, her reaction was positive. On patrols, we talked. It wasn’t anything big, just small talk, but I felt a bond forming between us. Almost like we were friends.  
“One night, she came to patrols with a tear-stained face, telling me of her run-in with Snivellus on her way to meet me. She broke down in front of me. I always thought she was strong willed and would never break. Somehow, I thought she was indestructible. In that moment, I realized I was wrong. She needed support, someone to help her through the hard times. Without thinking, my arms engulfed her. Pressed against my chest, tears streaming, I realized, more than ever, that I love her.  
“I love her. Her hair. Her smile. Her silly expressions. Her humming “Yesterday” under her breath (I asked her one night during patrols.) Her green, green eyes. Her short skirts. Her baggy shirts. Everything. All of it. Nothing in-between.  
“My hands were tingling. She sobbed into my shoulder while I stroked her hair. I felt like my world was crashing down around me. Any minute now, she’d pull back and say, ‘Well then, let us continue on?’ in that perfect way of hers, in that tone that I couldn’t resist. But, that didn’t happen. Instead, she looked me in the eyes and I met her teary ones. Her gaze lowered to my lips, and before I could think, her lips were on mine.  
“Her kisses were like fire; passionate and lovely, but stirring up a storm inside. She really was a hurricane. After what seemed like eternity, my bliss was cut short. Pulling back, I realized this was just out of her sorrow. I looked at her, studied her face, gave her hand a squeeze, and we continued on with patrols.  
“After that night, she looked at me curiously. I bet she wondered why I didn’t kiss her again. I mean, I did pursue her for years. This continued for about three weeks. Maybe less. I don’t remember anymore.  
“It became a habit to see her fall asleep on the common room couch while doing her homework. She was obviously stressed. Whenever I saw her asleep there, I’d move her work, relight the fire, and grab one of my blankets and drape it over her. When I’d see her next, her stare would linger. Whenever she gave me that stare, butterflies, but manly ones, would erupt in my stomach.  
“This became our routine; do patrols, she’d fall asleep on the couch, wake up, give me the stare, and then continue on with our day.  
“I don’t know how it happened, but she fell in love with me. I didn’t grasp that until one morning after a shower. It was an extra long one to relax me. Quidditch Captain and Head Boy duties really got to me that day. Anyways, I walked out in just a towel while she was walking out of her room. She was wearing a Quidditch jersey; a Gryffindor one. The thought of one of my teammates shacking up with her made me sick. But she didn’t realize what was going through my head. All she saw was me, half-naked standing in front of her like a dolt. I didn’t realize that the jersey was mine until it was lying on the floor with the discarded towel.  
“Just like that kiss, she loved me like a hurricane. Lily would always be my hurricane.”


End file.
